<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d6716912567556576053\x26blogName\x3dHer+RIGHT-ings...\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://thelilcupboard.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttps://thelilcupboard.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d7863319085955992359', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe", messageHandlersFilter: gapi.iframes.CROSS_ORIGIN_IFRAMES_FILTER, messageHandlers: { 'blogger-ping': function() {} } }); } }); </script> <iframe src="//www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID=3054107564476057249&amp;blogName=url.blogspot.com&amp;publishMode=PUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT&amp;navbarType=BLACK&amp;layoutType=CLASSIC&amp;homepageUrl=http://url.blogspot.com/&amp;searchRoot=http://url.blogspot.com/search" height="30px" width="100%" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" id="navbar-iframe" frameborder="0"></iframe> <div id="space-for-ie"></div>
FACT.



Labels:


5:52 PM Photobucket
NO MORE

Apparently, I am going to write down what I feel at the moment.
I am sitting down my chair, in front of my desk and I just wished I did not do what I just did moments ago.
I feel a different throb in my heart.
I feel mad.
I feel confused.
I feel JEALOUS.
I feel perplexed.
Should i be happy I saw that? Should I be glad that you did that? Should I be okay with everything that reminds me of gah--- I just can't say the word to describe what I loathe at the moment. Mainly because we've already talked about this. Mainly because there is nothing I could fucking do. Mainly because there is no way I could turn back the time. Mainly because you wanted that, in the first place. Mainly because I don't really know. I am mad and I admit, it is my fault, I am hurt, you did what you have to do to then to hurt me now but what the hell? I just don't know what to feel. I resist on writing down what really is this that's bothering me because it will be too obvious and I know there is nothing to undo it so why bother say it? Augh. I am really confused. I don't know. I just can not... can never ever ever ever ever ever be genuinely happy. Sometimes, the word love, brings me to great depression. At times, I like it when you call me that. At times, I want to throw up. Not because I don't want to, in fact, I like it, but I don't know, I want to throw it back angrily at you. If only I could rip my heart out my chest, I would throw it to your face numerous times.
Apparently, it is not your fault. I just don't understand. I just don't accept. I want to kill. Her, her and her and her and her and why am I being too obvious again? We've talked about it, I know, but sometimes, you just can't ignore things. You seem to be okay with it for a while, but it hurts still. And you can never ever forget it. And when you do, it will only last for not more than an hour. Because facts are facts and fuck you. Fuck them. I am mad. I wish I did not see it. I wish I did not see that. I wish I just kept to my own goddamn profile. I wish I just did not scan... never mind. I am going too far. I am mad. That anger must be the one that overpowers me now, and I am genuinely sorry for letting it, but I am just so damn mad. Don't ever ever ever call me love anymore. Don't ever call me... shit. I should stop but my fingers just keep on pressing the tabs. I hate it, I hate you, I hate her. And her. And her. And her. And her. And her. And her. And her. And fuck me. I hate me, too, for liking you. I hate everything.
I go eat now. I hope her and her and the rest of the hers go to hell.
Thank you. And please accept my apologies for being mad at this moment.

Labels:


1:12 AM Photobucket
Unfortuante


I guess there are just dreams we are never meant to achieve.
No. Not because we could not, it's that it just wouldn't be.
No. Not because of what you did, it's that it must be what you have. And that something you have, you can not unhave.

I believe, that this is just how life goes. There is no really complete healing to one's wound. You can forget. You can ignore. You can move on, swear, you can. Then again, have you noticed? Scars remain, but during some points in your life, it still throbs. It gives pangs of pain just to remind you of what you have forgotten, of what you have ignored, of what you have moved on with. It pains to remind you. That once in your life, you had that.


Labels: , , ,


3:50 AM Photobucket
COLOURS






Lately, it has been nail polish that I have been daydreaming about. Nail polish. Nail polish. Nail polish.

Oh how I wish I could paint my life just as easily as painting ones nails. And oh, how nice it would be.

Labels: , ,


7:19 PM Photobucket
Remnants of August


It was a first.

It was pleasant. It was beautiful. It was heavenly. It was elegant. It was nostalgic. It was sad. It was dreamy. It was bittersweet. It was grieving. It was breaking. It was making. It was everything I ever dreamed of then.


He was my then. He came just as quickly as he left. He made a mark into my life as he made a scar in my heart. He was that of brown eyes, sharp nose, light skin and hands that when graze my own would send shivers into my entire body. He was that of sophisticated aura and a smile so confident but never was he cocky though he could be for everything about him has something to be proud of.


And yet. The little time we've spent. The little time we've had. The little time we've shared... they are nothing now but memories.


And the last night I saw him, I could still remember his face. And his arms around my waist as he lifted me up. A farewell gesture for a younger sister, I presume. Nonetheless, he was lovely. He was graceful and now I am still thinking of him and our memories. It was three years ago... And August 21, would be the day he'd left me before. And I can still remember everything clearly.


But now, I have a new love. And this time, it's for real. Yet, even how many years would pass, who could forget... the butterflies in your stomach and the pains of your first love?

I know I was just a random autumn leaf that fell on his shoulder, only to be noticed for a while... yet soon to be forgotten.


\

Labels:


5:45 PM Photobucket